


Cider

by AngelDormais



Category: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (TV 2003)
Genre: Gen, casey being french amuses me, fight me i'll go down with this ship, lol, madeline is not her canon name btw i just made it up, mama jones sensed master level ninja hanging out in her barn, more mama jones in fanwork pls, so begins the long and slow process of uploading all my FFnet work here, this is literally my 2k3 OTP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-13
Updated: 2017-04-13
Packaged: 2018-10-18 07:47:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10612419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngelDormais/pseuds/AngelDormais
Summary: In which sons are discussed and apple cider is not green tea, but still enjoyable. Drabblet.





	

When he comments on how full of energy the children are, she turns to him, lowering a mug of warm cider from her lips, and laughs.

"My Arnold wasn't always that way," she says after a few moments. "He was as scrawny as they make 'em."

Splinter turns away from his sons, wrestling on the summer-scorched grass, to watch her. Her eyes are distant behind her glasses, taking her somewhere far enough away to weigh down the corners of her smile; she absently reaches up and tightens her bun of thick hair.

He stops tapping a claw on his ceramic mug, and takes a moment to glance at the deep-colored liquid inside. Never trust anything that isn't green tea-a lesson he hasn't managed to impart to his sons particularly well, but now the joke seems to be on him. There is no polite way to explain that trepidation from years of avoiding sewage water makes him wary to drink anything unfamiliar, including her apple cider.

"Many things change," he says slowly. "What was once a sapling may become a great tree."

"Oh, he was barely even that."

His ears flick curiously, and she gives him a distant, sideways smile.

"Arnold was a frail little thing. Always looked up to his father. A lot like some other boys I know," she adds, warmly glancing over to see Raphael toppling her son into the dirt. Splinter's muzzle widens softly.

"But he grew," the old rat points out.

"No." Her gaze darkens as it falls to the picnic table. "He burned. That fire stayed with him all these years. He's a good boy. Pulled me through his father's death better than I pulled him. But..."

"He was angry," Splinter says, voice low with a flicker of realization. He knew the story behind the death of Casey's father, but never how it truly affected him. Casey had always been a fixture in the family, and things were left in the past where they belonged. "Mrs. Jones, I-"

She cuts him off with a wave of her hand. "Madeline, dear. And I know. I'm not the only one with a troubled son." He follows her gaze to Raphael, now pinning Casey to the ground with the help of Michelangelo, and sees a soft, uncharacteristic glint in her hard features that sends a shiver of familiarity through his fur.

_Tang Shen._

"But that's the thing," she says suddenly, turning back to Splinter with a knowing smile. "When that boy left my house, he was charging into a suicide mission. Now he's got friends and a fiancée who'll go charging in with him." She grins, bringing the cider to her lips. "What's a mother to do?"

Splinter's tail twitches in amusement. "The father asks this question of himself regularly."

Madeline laughs, opening her mouth to respond, but she's cut off by a cry of _"Ma! They're gangin' up on me,"_ followed by a loud _"Callin' for your mama ain't gonna help you now, Case!"_

She shares a look with Splinter. He flicks his ears in understanding, and in the next moment, she's standing and rolling up her sleeves to the elbow. "Excuse me. I've got some business to take care of." Madeline tosses a look at the untouched mug in Splinter's paws. "Drink your cider before it cools, sweetheart."

She sprints off with the force and speed of a freight train, and Splinter has to bring up the cider to stifle his chuckle. His whiskers quiver when the taste, sweet and warm like the folds of a kimono, floods his senses.

 _Yes,_ he thinks to himself, watching Madeline tackle Raphael off of her son only to pull them all into a big pile. _Perhaps I will ask her for the recipe._


End file.
